


I'm Always Here to Help John

by Pnanda92



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Quiet Sex, Stitches, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pnanda92/pseuds/Pnanda92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After solving a case, John tends to Sherlock's wounds..getting a little carried away with a split lip on those pale thin kissable lips which leads to something more</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Always Here to Help John

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, thanks for reading my fanfic. Kinda new to the fandom but I love it so much :)
> 
> Enjoy if you like it and leave a like if you REALLY enjoyed it hahaha!

The rain poured down without hesitation. Water pelted down on the rooves of the houses and local businesses, all the way down Baker St. The sound was deafening, even Mrs. Hudson couldn’t even hear the kettle scream at its boiling stage, let alone her own thoughts. But even with the winter storm thundering down, she could still distinguish two voices from the rain any day.

Sighing to herself, a smile at the corner of her lips, she walked out from the kitchen, straightening her apron while wiping off the crumbs from her evening tea. She mumbled cursively to herself as she would be the one to clean those up, and stood quietly, waiting as the voices grew louder as they approached.

She jumped abruptly as the wooden door slammed open, hitting the wall behind it, causing frames to fall and shatter on the ground. A hand came up to catch the door from its return. Watson stood hunched over in the doorway, his focus on the ground below his feet, puffing harshly. He was soaked though each layer he had on. His matted hair dripped rivers over his eyes, Watson heaved in a slow, deep breath, and turned his head to his right, watching as a perfectly dry man walk up and past him as if he was the door man.

“I can’t believe you would use me as some kind of bait!” John exclaimed as he watched Sherlock shake off the umbrella of its loose droplets of rain and place it in the holder underneath the hat stand, “No, I’m sorry. I take that back. What **sane** man would ever believe that you would do something like that to the man that has **saved** your behind more times than all the cats lives put together in London! Oh, definitely my mistake!”

John took a step inside the warm apartment and closed the door behind him softly.

“Good evening Holmes. Dr. Watson.” Mrs. Hudson quickly was at Watson’s side, taking his hat, waistcoat and jacket from his hurting body. He smiled thanks to her, running a hand through his hair.

“Good even Mrs. Hudson. Would you mind bringing me my surgical case? Someone seemed to loose my other one.”

She smiled and nodded, heading off into another room. Sighing, he turned his attention once again to Sherlock, frowning as he placed his wet coat and jacket onto the side rails of the stairs.

“Oh, come on John. You had the right structure for this case, and were it not successful? Why, if it were me, we might not have caught the man behind those kidnappings.”

“Indeed, you are correct," Watson started, regretting saying that out loud, “but I was kidnapped and mistreated for three full days! The slashes on my back are just beginning to heal now.”

“John, my dear friend, you are like a cat; You always land on your feet. And if the day comes where you don’t land on your feet, I will always be there to catch you.”

 _There is no understanding that man!_ Watson thought, watching the detective limp up the staircase. He shook his head, bringing his hand to his face and pinched the bridge on his nose, trying to wrap his mind around that so called human he respected. Mrs. Hudson rushed back in, holding his black briefcase and an extra roll of bandage material. He thanked her once again with a nod and followed Holmes up the stair, looking at the small blood droplets that sank into the cracks in the wood.

\----

“Sit still Sherlock!” Watson urged while at the same time commanded though gritted teeth as he help a pair of small scissors between them.

“It’s very hard when you are stabbing a needle in me like I am a ripped pair of trousers.” Sherlock whined; a painful groan followed after it as he watched the needle pierce his skin over his pale thigh, a white line followed it, disappearing for a moment before the needle exited out the other side, drawing the sliced skin together.

“The morphine should take its affect on you soon.” John softly informed, concentrating fully on stitching up the bullet would that caused Sherlock’s limping. He didn’t even inform John of his condition.

Sherlock studied John, watching the intensity in his eyes as they followed the movements of the needle through his skin, John’s eyes flickering over his skin for a few seconds before continuing to patch him up. Sherlock's eyes drifted down to the hand that was clasped over his thigh, just above his wound. He could feel his pulse quicken with each throb under John’s large hand.

“There. I think you will survive.” John broke the silence, removing his hand from Holmes’ thigh, taking the scissors from his teeth and cut the excess threat, officially finishing his work on his friend’s thigh, "Sadly."

John stood up from his bar stool next to Sherlock's’ leg, and limped over to his surgical case, dropping the needle in warm water, watching how the blood stain the water and placed the rest of his stitching material back in its rightful place. He turned around, placing his weight on his arm as his hand clasped at the table, a shock of pain traveling up his leg. He looked around Sherlock's room, thinking to himself how someone could ever live in such a place. His focus left the room and he stared at the man, his eyes focusing on his lips as they curved into a smirk.

“Well, I would say and confirm that the morphine you have given me, is now working quite well.” Sherlock said out loud, his words relaxed and pain free. He let his head fall back on the head rest of his chair, taking in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the drug take its course of his body.

Watson was always weary of giving Holmes medicated drugs, always worried that they wouldn’t work. So after he watched Sherlock for a few seconds, his anxiety left and he began to treat himself. Sherlock for some reason would get the worst or the fewest injuries, and every time John would be the one to take care of him. 

Scratching at a small graze just under his rolled up sleeve, John cleaned himself up of the blood. Then he started on clearing up Sherlock’s leg and other cuts over his body, coming back to his friend's side. There was nothing he could do for the bruised cheek bone that had been hit continuously in the same spot, splitting the skin. A split lip would heal in time and …

“I missed something…” John mumbled to himself quietly as his eyes fixated on the deep slash running down Sherlock’s neck, right over his vein. He studied it, not wanting to take Sherlock away from his relaxed state. Dry blood cracked as the taller man swallowed, allowing fresh blood to slowly ooze from the wound, leaving a red trail down the strained tendon. A quick flash of excitement ran through John’s mind. He shook his head, standing up and taking a step back from the man, trying to rid the thought from his mind. But it stayed.

John wasn’t a man that would allow himself to give in, but after a moment of deep contemplation and a good mouthful of whiskey, he did. Taking a slow step forward, he placed a leg over each side of Sherlock’s slim body and slowly sat down on his thighs, making sure he avoided the wound. He froze when Sherlock groaned from pain. He knew that taking advantage of a human, let alone a man who was medicated was wrong, but in an instant, he found himself leaning into the long neck, his lips brushing over the bloody gash. He moved his hands to Sherlock's arms, gripping onto them softly, but moved his lips away as the scene of how his mate got that slash that ruined his alabaster skin ran though his head as he closed his eyes.

_A tall gruff steal worker grabbed Sherlock from the ground after kicking him in the ribs a few times and placed the knife to his throat. Sherlock groaned as the knife pierced his skin. The man smiled a greasy smile and moved his lips to zSherlock’s ear, whispering something that made the man squirm for his release._

_John rushed into the room after finishing with the now unconscious man on the ground, hearing his companion call for him. He pulled back the hammer on his gun and aimed at the tall man. His time in war paid off as the bullet blasted from the chamber and entered his assailant's head. The knife fell from his hand as his body fell to the ground, leaving Sherlock smiling to him self, which left John sighing at his friend, shaking his head._

John realized that Sherlock never thanked him for taking his gun that he had forgotten once again. He smiled down at his friend, and placed a kiss over the wound, eliciting a moan from the man under him, the skin vibrating under his lips. Smiling still, he opened his lips, letting the flat of his tongue press over the still bleeding injury, smearing the warm blood over his wet muscle. The taste was rich; metallic blood stung his tongue. Removing his tongue after licking over the sliced skin, he replaced it by closing his lips over the wound while tracing the cut skin with the tip of his tongue. Edging his body closer to Sherlock’s, his left hand moved up the thin yet strong arm, removed the clothing from his shoulder and gripped onto the broad shoulder, his thumb drawing invisible circles over the skin.

“John…” He heard his name come from his friends mouth, his named wrapped in desire. His voice was so dark, so deep and husky, it send a shiver down Johns’s spine, eyes widening a little. Sherlock was calling for him.

His hand soon moved away from his shoulder, coming to rest at the nape of Sherlock’s neck, running his fingers through the deep chocolate brown hair. They both were still in cold damp clothes. Watson was shaking before from the cold clothing, now they were warm from the heat from their bodies. He was still shaking, but he was now shaking from the adrenalin pulsating through his veins. 

The moment now seemed timeless, as John continued to play and suck on the wound. He enjoyed feeling Holmes stiffen every time he pushed his tongue into the wound. He moved away from the slash, blood now ceasing from the wound and latched his lips onto new fresh skin, beginning to nip and suck at it. He could taste Sherlock on his tongue; his sweat, the remnants of blood, his unique taste of every aspect of Holmes. Another moan escaped Sherlock’ lips, making Watson slowly open his eyes, wanting to see his face.

Realization of the situation set on him; he was marking his friend, who was medicated so he couldn’t feel pain, which made sense as to why he wasn’t recoiling when he played with his wound or sitting on his thigh where he couldn’t feel the throbbing pain anymore.

_You damn sad fool John!_

“John,” he looked up at the man, his cheeks slightly flushed, “why did you stop?”

“I’m sorry,” Watson blurted out, already off of Sherlock’s lap, limping back against the table, “I…I don’t know what came over me.” He sighed deeply, placing his hand over his face to hide his shame.

“Well, I think you should not be sorry for acting on emotion. For what is it worth, it is human nature to act upon impulses of high arousal or heightened emotional state. As well as that, I swapped the morphine with some honey water. I wanted to see if-“

“You what?!”

Sherlock, with a straight face expression, sat up and placed his hand over his neck, a finger ghosting over the marks that John left on his wound and his neck, “ I swapped the –“

”I heard you the first time. We are all born with ears for a reason,“ John stopped leaning against the table and stood up, “Why did you do that?”

The detective was about to reply to the question, but closed his mouth.

Angered flushed through John, “Of course once again, the mighty Sherlock Holmes refuses to explain himself when it comes to the one thing that you cannot explain: Feelings. Emotions. And as well as withholding information, you always seem to withhold your plans from me, leaving me all banged up like always.”

Watson stared at Sherlock, waiting for an answer but he was only wasting time. He was so confused. Sure he loved Sherlock as a brother, but he had never felt this intense heat consume his body before. Not to this degree anyway. He felt so embarrassed that he acted like that. He felt so foolish that he was caught, but he felt so aroused that Sherlock was moaning his name.

Sherlock stood up from his chair, putting his weight on his good leg and ran his hand through his hair, “What did it feel like?”

”What?”

”Tell me what it felt like when you were marking me.”

His breath caught in his throat. Watson stiffened defensively, “I’m not going to tell you that." Trying to avoid the subject, John strode across the room, and made his way past Sherlock to the door.

”It felt good, did it not?” The tall man asked, making John stop in his path, “Judging by your increased breathing and the slight blush of your cheeks, I can confirm that. You can verbally lie John, but your body and your actions will always tell the truth.”

With the rain still pouring outside, the room got dark quickly. He watched the candles flicker around him, dancing to their own tune. He closed he eyes, hoping that this wasn’t happening and breathed out, “I have left some pills for you on the table, take them accordingly when the pain starts to arise.” 

John made his way to the door but with longer lean legs, it made it easy for Sherlock to pass him and stand in front of the door, locking it from the inside. He threw the metal key away into a stack of papers and looked into John’s eyes.

“Sherlock, move.” Watson asked low in a threatening voice, he was already made a fool of tonight; he didn’t want the situation to get any worse. He shouldn’t have listened to that voice in his head.

“John, just listen to me for a moment.” Sherlock begged, a rare occurrence, taking a step forward towards the ex-soldier. Watson took a step back, trying to avoid Sherlock’s playful mind games and side stepped him, taking a key from his pocket and dangled it in front of his face. He looked Sherlock up and down, looking at the ripped trousers where he stitched up his wound and placed the key into the keyhole, ready to turn it. 

But once again, Sherlock got the upper hand, taking the key from the door and placed it in his pocket and moved in between John and the door, making his exit harder. Sherlock put his hands on the smaller mans shoulders, trying to reassure him of what he was trying to do, but of course John didn’t want to listen this time, “Let me explain, then you can choose whether to leave or stay.”

They both sighed at the same time. John shouldered off Sherlock’s hand and waited for his explanation.

But it never came. Sherlock just stood there, his eyes flickering over John’s face, trying to find some words to put together to make a sentence to justify his actions. Well, he didn’t really see that he did anything wrong. It was John who instigated it, not him and he didn’t even do anything, not including the moans and slightly grinding up against Watson’s hips. But somehow he felt guilty for misleading him.

_Words are mostly empty in an apology, so why use words when actions speak louder than them?_

Sherlock grabbed John’s chin, taking a step forward so his long back was plastered against the door, and pulling him up so they were face to face, Sherlock placed his thin lips every so lightly over John’s. The doctor’s eyes widened and flickered over the face close to his, his eyes were watching Sherlock’s. He slammed his hand onto the door hard, gripping hard on the door handle as his other hand came up and cupped the back of Sherlock's head, crushing their lips together.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss, loving the pressure of Watson’s lips against his. He left John take charge of the moment,feeling him press his body against his own while his long thick slipped in between his own long legs, spreading them, and then rubbed his knee against his own hardening cock. Sherlock gasped from the touch, automatically bucking against the knee and breaking the kiss, which gave John time to steal those lips back, forcing his tongue into his mouth to lick and play over Sherlock’s tongue. Their tongues dueled for dominance but Sherlock just gave him, loving the feeling of Watson inside his mouth. 

_I never knew he could be so forceful, I might have to show him my gratitude,_ Holmes thought. 

He mentally smiled as his hands fell upon John’s hips, playing with his belt. His hand grasped onto the damp shirt pulling them towards his chest, making John come closer to his lean body. 

John couldn’t even think; everything was flying out of his mind, leaving only Sherlock in there, meddling with his body and emotions. 

The need for sufficient air burned at his chest, so regretting his next action, he pulled away. He heard Sherlock breath in low, licking his lips. 

“I think I might… stay and here you… out,” The dazzled man muttered slowly, getting his air deprived lungs the air they needed.

“I’m glad you could see it my way John.” Sherlock smiled, giving Watson a small kiss before spinning them both around so John was now pinned against the door, the slashes on his back screaming in pain as his back met with the door. John growled low, his eyes closing to deal with the pain. Then suddenly the pain was gone as his mind had forgotten it. Sherlock's lips were on his neck, marking him with shark bites and nips, wanting John to know that he was his and vice versa.

“Sher-lock…don’t bite…ahh…marks…Mary…” Watson moaned out, pressing his aching bulge against Sherlock’s hip, rubbing against it.

“But…you….taste…so…good.” Sherlock answered in between sucks and nips. While he played with Watson, his hands moved to the doctor’s shoulders, hands running over the sturdy chest. Then, his hands moved to his shirt, already opening up the buttons with nimble fingers.

“Wait...what are you doing?” John asked, apprehension beginning to tense his body up, drawing him out of the moment, but Sherlock just kissed his cheek with a smile and moved down to his clavicle and bit down playfully, his lips soothing the sting. John relaxed his weight against the door and succumbed to Sherlock’s devilish mouth over his body.

Now with his shirt open, Sherlock’s hands roamed around over his chest, feeling the soft hair over his pectorals, swiping the side of his thumb over his hard nipple, tracing each rib over his sides and his abdomen. He licked over his collarbone, liking how Watson tensed up as he lightly touched his lower abdomen, fingers following the soft snail trail down to his pants.

John moaned low, grabbing onto Sherlock's hips, bringing them closer to his own; one hand laying over it while his other slid up the broad back. His hips acted on their own their own, grinding so John could relieve some of the tension building up inside of his pants. He could already feel the tight sensation down in his stomach begin to grow.

Already seeing the signs that he needed release on John’s face, Sherlock thought it was about time to help him. Slowly the taller man moved away from John’s body, the cool night air stinging his chest, and crouched down into a kneel, his fingers already pushing the buttons through the holes and yanked down the fly. He pushes the pants down to see the small tent bounce under the blue and white thin striped cotton boxers. Humming low, tongue flicking out to lick at the corner of his mouth, Sherlock grabbed Johns’s already hard, leaking manhood over the material, and kissed the tip. He liked the reaction he got from John as he yelped from the action. Sherlock looked up at John, waiting for him to look down.

“Holmes, just…don’t tease…please…” John was a begging mess, and he hadn’t even started yet, but to put him out of the distress he was causing John, Holmes smiled and pulled down the boxers, watching his cock bounce up from it and took hold of the base, lowering his open mouth over it, allowing John’s erection to slide in.  
John cried out from the warmth around his arousal as Sherlock began to suck around him. Placing his hands on Johns’s hips, Sherlock began a steady pace of pleasuring his friend, hollowing out his cheeks with the flat of his tongue pressing up under his shaft, suckling around the head, kissing along and down the shaft. Looking up at John, Sherlock watched the shorter bite down on his bottom lip, gasping every time his mouth closed over his erection. He learned fast what John liked, listening to the ragged breathing pattern and the soft "ahh's" coming out.

He liked the tip treasured and sucked while his balls fondled and tugged, so that's what he focused on; his hand working the shaft in long strong strokes as he worshiped the head, tongue laving around the glans as he rolled the tight sac with his forefinger and thumb, closing his eyes and concentrated on what his tongue could do for the man who had saved his life many a time  
Sherlock, smiling, hummed to himself, letting the reverberating air in his mouth stimulate John’s member even more before coming off, making John groan from the loss of friction.

“Sherlock…don’t stop…” Watson pleaded, his voice shaky as he hand shot out, cupping Sherlock’s chin, staring into his eyes to show how close he was.

“All in good timing.” Holmes smiled, kissing the palm of John’s hand before going back down, and licking the underside of John, dragging his canines above and below, pressing against the pulsating vein which elicited a gasp of pure passion from John as a hand threaded itself into Holmes’ hair, urging his mouth to continue with what it was doing before, tugging and soothing.

Sherlock laughed, and opened his mouth again, taking in all of John as much as he could. John wasn't long but he was thick. He was enough for Sherlock to take all the way in, relaxing his jaw and throat to swallow around him, breathing controlled and subtle

“Sherlock!" He cried, slamming his head back against the door, grip tight in the wild brown hair," ah-ahhh! So good…mmmph!” John tried to keep control of his words but they just came out as if his brain wasn’t even in action anymore. Then he moaned out loud, his hand grabbing handfuls of hair as Holmes pressed the tip of his tongue into the slit, making him buck hard into his mouth. John had to shove the hand, white knuckled, on the door knob into his mouth, biting hard on it as he began to thrust into the welcoming mouth, rolling his hips and watched his cock disappear into the mouth he was kissing not too long ago.

So lost in the pleasure he was receiving, he was unaware of how loud he was, not to mention the moans vibrating around his cock from his friend. Then came a loud knock at the door, the same door that John was leaning on while Sherlock was giving him a rightful 'thank you', interrupting their moment.

“Dr. Watson, are you alright in there?” Mrs. Hudson asked from the other side of the door, lightly tapping at the door, concerned, making John’s stiffen and go rigid against the door.

Sherlock pulled off with a loud slurp, placing a long finger against his lips, licking at the drool at the corner of his mouth and proceeded to take John's cock back down, ahand still working the shaft with skilled twists and the other still massaging his sac. John's eyes widened, pulling at his hair trying to get him off but Sherlock only sucked harder, moaning louder. 

Scrunching his eyes closed tight, he let out a slow weak breath, “No, everything is…ahhh….fine. Sherlock is,’” he stopped, suppressing a moan as he pressed the back of his head against the door, “…he is fixing me up at the moment.”

“It doesn’t sound like he is doing a good job, do you want me -“

“NO!” John yelled, turning his head to the lock, seeing it jostle and grabbed it, Sherlock taking the opportunity to suck harder around him, making John weakly moan as the warmth in his stomach increased at a fast rate, making his torso muscles tighten, “Sherlock... he is doing a fine job at it, there is no…oh god…uh, need for your assistance.”

There was a pause; john knew she was listening to them. He didn’t know what to do; he had never been in a situation like this.

“John, is this the right way for this?” Holmes playfully asked, kissing the tip over and over again, making John silently moan up to the ceiling, closing his eyes.

John clued on fast, “Yes, that’s fine. Just like that.”

Sherlock smirked as John glared down at him. They heard Mrs. Hudson walk back downstairs. John, now on the edge, pleaded forcefully to Sherlock to keep continuing. Of course, Sherlock obliged, taking him in once more, and quickened his actions. He could sense the doctor’s climax just about to come, so he reached down to cup John’s balls, pulling on them slightly as he sucked hard around him. That was it for John as he threw his head back and moaned loud, bucking into Sherlock’s mouth as he came hard, his whole body shuddering. Sherlock sucked down all that John gave him, swallowing down the thick white liquid, chocking a little as John bucked hard down his throat.

John’s legs gave out on him, causing him to slide down against the door, panting and breathless. Sherlock, licking the stray liquid away from the corner of his lips, looked across at his friend as he fixed him back into his trousers. His face was in pure bliss; flushed cheeks, closed eyes, open mouth that was panting harshly, pulse rushing…what more could Sherlock ask for?

“Sherlock, –" Watson didn’t even get to finish his sentence of gratitude as Sherlock placed his lips over his own with a soft kiss. He could taste himself in Sherlock's mouth and leaned forward, hand moving to palm against the tight bulge in Sherlock's pants.

“Yes, I know of it. Come; let’s head to bed and hopefully that Nanny doesn't bother us again because "Sherlock leaned forward, lips close to John's ear and murmured low," I know that I can make you scream louder soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading all the way through.. or skipping to the smut because hell I do the same! :)  
> Some love would be awesome, and a comment if you want. But anything is good brah!
> 
> Thanks again! Have a good one! :)


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